


Got Your Back

by Psi_Fi



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Foe Yay, M/M, MacDoc, Murdoc whump?, Not sure if it qualifies as graphic, Redemption, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, broken leg, reference to bodily harm, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psi_Fi/pseuds/Psi_Fi
Summary: Murdoc and MacGyver end up in prison together in El Salvador.   All they have is each other and their determination to survive and escape.





	1. Pact

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from the "macgyver fic prompt" tag on tumblr. I don't know if the prompter would want to be mentioned here, but the idea is not mine. The prompt filled is:
> 
> The pair finds themselves imprisoned together and are forced to rely on each other. Mudoc keeps Mac safe from the other prisoners while Mac plans their escape. It takes some time and they bond over their shared reliance. Murdoc actually helps keep Mac sane. Once Mac’s skills get them out Murdoc has resources to keep them hidden and safe until either they can get out of the country or Phoenix comes to their aid. In my head, this isn’t a formal prison with stone walls, electronic cells and guard towers. More like a guerilla group in South America, Africa or somewhere that has converted a building to hold captives.

**April 12th. 3 P.M.**

MacGyver woke up, his head aching. He searched his memory, remembering. Ah. He'd been hit in the head with a rifle butt. That explained the searing pain, as he looked around. A row of bars formed one of the walls. He sat up on the hard bunk that formed his bed. 

"You are awake. Good!" a voice boomed, making MacGyver wince. 

He turned to find himself staring at a man in a guard's uniform. The man entered the cell, a small square of folded cloth in one hand. 

"Who are you?" MacGyver grated out.

"I'm the warden of this prison," the man announced. "My name is Donato Gallo, but you will address me as sir at all times." 

"Okay. Sir. What am I doing here?"

"Well, officially, you have been convicted of smuggling. Unofficially, you showed up uninvited to a private warehouse. The owner of the warehouse is friends with a certain judge, who, of course, has friends among the police. All together, enough evidence was presented to get you a sentence of twenty years...should you live that long." 

"I take it no one knows where I am?"

"No one who cares to help you, no." 

"Desi's going to be pissed off at me. And you."

"Desi will have to find me, first. It's unlikely. So! It's time for you to go to your new home, Mr. MacGyver." 

"How did you know my name?"

"Oh, the Rana cartel knows people who know people...you know how this works. Now, get up!" the warden commanded harshly. 

MacGyver struggled to his feet, noticing he'd been stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. The warden tossed him a prison uniform and watched as MacGyver struggled into the mustard yellow outfit. Once dressed, MacGyver was handed a thin pillow, a sheet, and a threadbare blanket. The warden ushered him out of the holding cell. A short walk later and they passed through a pair of electric, steel doors, into the outside. 

MacGyver looked around, seeing rows of barracks. Nearby was a work area, including clotheslines. A water pump stood outside every third barracks. MacGyver took note of the small guardhouse that stood to the far right of the barracks. Everything MacGyver saw was plain, but sturdy. 

"There you are. Your new home. Pick a barracks, Mr. MacGyver. No one here is particularly friendly, so I doubt it matters which you choose." 

The warden turned and walked away, back to the steel door and the office behind it. MacGyver sighed, picking a barracks closer to the back. A tall, thin man stood in the doorway, his grin razor sharp. 

"Sorry, no vacancies here." 

Peeking around him into the barracks, MacGyver saw four or five men, standing in a group, glaring, their arms folded across their chests. Giving a hard chuckle, MacGyver shrugged, turning and walking away. He looked around and noticed each barrack had a man at the door. 

"I'm beginning to think my name should be Joseph," he said loudly. "Let me guess. None of the barracks have any room?" 

"No one wants an American federale as a bunkmate, gringo," a big, beefy man snarled.

"What makes you think I am one?" MacGyver challenged. 

The other prisoners laughed.

"You are. Who else would you be?" the tall, thin prisoner asked, approaching him. "If you were an ordinary American, you would be in an ordinary prison, not one run by the Rana cartel." 

"Fair enough." 

"My name is Silvio," the tall prisoner said, chuckling. "Don't worry, Angus..."

MacGyver started, frowning heavily at Silvio.

"Oh, yes. We were told your name," Silvio assured him. "As I was saying, you don't have to sleep outside. There is still one place, where you might claim a bed." 

"El Mal Lindo," one prisoner snickered and several others nodded, eagerly. 

"Beautiful evil?" Mac asked, still using English. "Sounds like a contradiction in terms to me." 

"Oh, El Mal Lindo is very special. The warden was forced to break one of his legs, to keep him from killing other prisoners. But, the cartel wants him alive. So, someone was sent in to set El Mal's leg. He killed that man, too." 

"The warden put you up to this." 

"No, but I doubt he will object." 

"Uh-huh. Why not just execute me?"

"Who knows? They might fear reprisals, publicity...or they might have some use for you. Not the sort of thing they reveal to prisoners."

"How long has El Mal been in there?"

"Two days. Some of the other prisoners have pushed food and water into him on a board."

"Why?"

"He frightens them." 

"So, where is this El Mal Lindo?"

"In there," Silvio said, gesturing.

"The guardhouse?" 

"Oh, it's not a guardhouse. It used to be a storage area, but they moved the supplies to other areas and put in a couple of bunks. El Mal is one of the worst, but he's not the craziest prisoner we've ever had here." 

"Go in, Angus!" a third prisoner taunted, as he and some of the men from the doorway came closer, hovering in a semi-circle behind him.

"Right. Fine," Angus agreed. 

What sort of man could kill while nursing a broken leg? And, why kill the man sent to set that leg? MacGyver approached the guardhouse, trying to think of an approach that wouldn't get him killed. Since the guy's leg was broken, keeping his distance seemed a good idea. MacGyver could always outrun him. 

The prisoners waited, eagerly, as MacGyver entered the guardhouse. Bets were placed on how long the federale would last. Most agreed that he would be dead sooner, rather than later. Only a minute after MacGyver entered the building, long peals of laughter could be heard. Many of the men shuddered. 

What was El Mal Lindo doing to the federale to cause such delight?

MacGyver stunned them, by storming out of the building a minute later, a bucket in his hand. He went to one of the water pumps and began filling the bucket. El Mal Lindo was still laughing. The laughter only stopped, when MacGyver stood in the doorway of the guardhouse and tossed the contents of the water bucket inside. The prisoners froze, a swelling murmur going through them. Turning, MacGyver went and filled the bucket again, before heading back to the warehouse.

MacGyver went back inside to find Murdoc rubbing the water off of himself with one of his own bedsheets. Two days without a shower had left him sweaty and dirty. A full shower could wait, but he needed to be at least somewhat clean, for what came next. 

"Why did you kill the guy sent to set your leg?" MacGyver demanded, angrily.

"He wasn't a doctor and he didn't seem very bright. For instance, I told him to keep his hands off of me and he didn't listen." 

"A fatal mistake," MacGyver agreed, then waved at a pile of medical equipment, including a portable x-ray machine, sitting on one of the room's beds. "He had plenty of equipment. I'm surprised you didn't set the leg yourself."

"Oddly enough, first aid training isn't a big priority for assassins," Murdoc said, cheerfully, shrugging. "I can sew a bullet wound, but that's about it." 

MacGyver sighed. 

"Are you going to let me do it?" 

"Sure. You wouldn't offer, if you didn't know how." 

"Lucky me." 

MacGyver examined the x-ray machine, quickly figuring out how it worked. He used it to examine Murdoc's leg, finding the fibula had a large, horizontal crack. 

"Well, your fibula is cracked, but still in one piece. I think a splint and you keeping your weight off will be sufficient." 

"Hurts like hell," Murdoc admitted, sounding amused.

"Yeah and getting it bound isn't going to help. Sorry," MacGyver told him, with a surprising amount of sincerity.

The prisoners were still waiting patiently, expecting El Mal to throw a corpse outside. Instead, they heard a brief scream of pain, followed by silence. They exchanged stunned looks. That hadn't sounded like the federale. Their viewing ended, when Murdoc hobbled out of the guardhouse, his leg properly splinted, using a light aluminum crutch and heading for the showers. MacGyver came out a few moments later. 

"I'm still alive," he told them, dryly. 

"El Mal seems happy to see you," Silvio said warily.

"His name's Murdoc," MacGyver told him, irritated. 

"Murdoc or El Mal, he seems to like you, either way." 

"I hadn't noticed," MacGyver said, shortly. 

"You're alive," Silvio said mildly. 

"For now," MacGyver agreed grimly. "Why did the guards leave all that equipment and stuff there for two days?" 

"I'm sure they planned on trying again, once El Mal was a bit weaker."

"Huh. They don't know Murdoc," MacGyver observed, dryly, giving Silvio a slight nod, before turning and walking away.

MacGyver gave himself a tour of the prison, the parts he could access. He was surprised to find a large vegetable garden in a corner of the complex, behind the barracks. A low-roofed building in the work area held rows of washing machines and dryers. He couldn't get close to the areas with the watchtowers. The fences around the complex were, of course, high, with barbed wire around the top. A huge gate, large enough to drive through, stood on the west side, with thick doors. Sighing, MacGyver began walking back to the guardhouse. His head was still painful and some sleep sounded good. 

As he was passing the barracks, the beefy guy who had called him gringo stepped in front of him, a nasty smirk on his lips. 

"Can I help you?" MacGyver said with mild sarcasm.

"I don't like federales. Particularly ones from the U.S." 

"I'm sure they don't like you, either." 

"I really was hoping El Mal would kill you. But. If he doesn't want to, well. The rest of us can just have our own fun, yes?" 

MacGyver loosened his stance, preparing to fight. He was ready when the other man took a powerful swing at his jaw. Ducking back, MacGyver prepared to go on the offensive, until Murdoc's crutch came swinging up between the beefy man's leg, crashing into his groin. The beefy man howled, falling to his knees and cupping himself. 

"Play nice, Rodrigo. The boyscout is a friend of mine," Murdoc warned, lightly. 

"He's a federale," Rodrigo protested. 

"Mmhm," Murdoc agreed. "One of the best. Now, go crawl away." 

"Thanks," MacGyver said, almost sullenly, walking away, before Murdoc could respond.

Murdoc followed, keeping silent, until they were in the privacy of the guardhouse.

"You're actually welcome, by the way." 

"Am I? That's new," MacGyver said, crawling onto his bed. "Anyway, you owed me for setting your leg." 

"Can we talk, before you take a nap?" 

"About?" MacGyver sighed, sitting back up.

"We should come to an arrangement." 

"Why?" 

"We need each other." 

"I don't need you, Murdoc. I bet most people here are willing to kill me. You've become a bit redundant." 

"Hah, cute!" Murdoc retorted, giving a small nod of respect. "Come on, Angus! We're both better off helping each other, rather than squabbling. I'll watch your back, you'll watch mine...and when you do escape, you'll take me with you." 

Sighing, MacGyver squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off, for a few seconds, his current reality. But, Murdoc was right. The odds of him making allies here were...slim. He had few resources, precious little to offer these desperate, violent men. He needed at least one ally, if he was going to survive. 

"Fine, but you'll just be trading one prison for another," MacGyver warned.

"Of course, Angus," Murdoc agreed, his mild expression almost hiding the slight trace of sarcasm in his voice. 

"Great. I'm sleeping now. If you're going to murder someone, do it quietly." 

Murdoc just chuckled. He opened the door and placed the bent tines of half of a fork into the strike plate of the doorknob. Closing the door, he slipped the handle half of the fork through the straight part of the tines, effectively locking the door. 

MacGyver woke to a warm hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. Starting, he opened his eyes to find Murdoc looming over him. Well. It beat being slapped awake. MacGyver was relieved, when Murdoc backed up a bit, smiling down at him.

"Wakey-wakey, Angus. It's grub time! Though, grub is a bit unfair. The food here isn't actually bad. Luis is a fairly good cook." 

"Okay, I'm up," MacGyver said, standing up, which drew him closer to Murdoc, who didn't move back. "Do you mind?" 

"Not at all," Murdoc assured him, happily. 

MacGyver rolled his eyes and shook his head. Whatever. He refused to waste time trying to figure out Murdoc's personal brand of psychosis. Something of his thoughts must have been clear to Murdoc, because he gave a satisfied chuckle. 

"Hurry, Angus. I'm hungry." 

"Yeah, yeah," MacGyver said, turning to the door. 

He stopped, seeing the makeshift lock. Well. He had to give Murdoc credit for competence. He removed the lock, handing the fork pieces to Murdoc, who hid them on his person. They walked to the canteen. MacGyver was painfully aware of the stares, most of them openly hostile, that were directed at both him and Murdoc. 

"Hey, Lindo! When did you sell out to the federales?" a voice barked out from behind them, as they got in line for food. 

"I'm an assassin, Diego. I don't have loyalties," Murdoc corrected, rolling his eyes.

"When did the federales start hiring assassins?" another man asked, with casual humor.

"Miguel. How stupid are you?" Silvio scorned. "The federales have _always_ done that!" 

"No, they _have_ assassins," Miguel argued. "They don't hire from outside." 

"Miguel has a point," Murdoc said to MacGyver, with a shrug. 

MacGyver just rolled his eyes, ignoring the conversation. 

"Relax, boyscout. You're going to need to blend in, at least a little. It won't hurt you to be a little chatty." 

"I don't think making small talk is going to help me, here." 

"Well, you'd be surprised." 

"That's not the advice Riley gave me, when I went undercover in a prison."

"Dear Riley was in a supermax, with hundreds of prisoners. This is different. It's the difference between surviving in a city and a small town. I'm not saying be _friendly_, but interact." 

MacGyver considered that, then nodded. Despite his advice, Murdoc led them to an empty table, ignoring the other inmates. 

"How hard is this place to escape?"

"Well, it isn't Alcatraz, but it's not badly managed, either. There's the usual gates, guards, at least six on duty at all times, then there are patrols on the outside, with dogs. It doesn't help that we're miles away from the nearest town." 

"How many miles?" 

"Fifty and that's through woods in most directions." 

"How did you even end up here? All of Phoenix hasn't managed to recapture you." 

"Well, to be honest...I wanted to get caught." 

MacGyver started, then glared.

"You're here to kill someone. Who?" 

"His name was Paolo and I'm afraid you're far too late." 

"What do you need me for, then? You didn't come in here without an escape plan...did you?"

"Mm, no, but my plan required assistance."

"That was trusting of you." 

"Well, my helper was someone I'd worked with before. Sadly, he got shot dead, in his preparations for getting me out." 

"Okay, then," MacGyver responded, rolling his eyes. 

Criminals, honestly. 

MacGyver looked up to find Murdoc just grinning at him, his food apparently forgotten. MacGyver gave an unimpressed stare back, for a few moments, but that didn't seem to impress Murdoc at all.

"What?" MacGyver demanded.

"You're so cute, when you're annoyed. That disbelieving eye roll is just the most adorable thing. Honestly, MacGyver, it makes teasing you hard to resist." 

"I don't think you try very hard." 

"To resist teasing you? No. No, I don't," Murdoc agreed, chuckling.

"Murdoc."

"Hmm?"

"Eat."


	2. Bonding and Surviving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacGyver and Murdoc work together and learn more about each other.

**April 14th. 5 A.M.**

MacGyver woke to the piercing shrieks of an electric horn.

"Angus," Murdoc prodded, pulling himself out of the bed. "Come on. Up and at 'em. We have one hour to get dressed and eat, before work." 

MacGyver didn't argue, but pulled on his clothes. He wondered if he would need to help Murdoc, but he managed to get into his clothes on his own. They went, as swiftly as Murdoc could manage, to the canteen. Breakfast was a rapid affair, conducted with a sense of urgency. Toast, potatoes, eggs, and ham were rapidly consumed. MacGyver noticed everyone, including Murdoc, was drinking multiple cups of water and followed suit, wondering why it was apparently needed. 

Breakfast ended when the horn sounded again. The men disposed of their plates and filed outside, heading for buses that were driving in from the outside gate. 

"Where are we going?" MacGyver asked, as they stood in line to board. 

"A coffee plantation," Murdoc answered. "We get to spend the next ten hours earning our keep." 

"Sounds great," MacGyver quipped. 

Standing in line, the prisoners were shackled together in pairs, then walked together onto a bus. As they rumbled down a dirt road, MacGyver studied the road and the surrounding landscape. He analyzed the route, trying to discover any possible escape route.

"Eyes forward, prisoner," an armed guard at the front barked.

"Don't fret, boyscout," Murdoc murmured, sounding amused. 

"I"m not," MacGyver said, calmly.

"Quiet!" another guard warned.

The buses stopped at the edge of a plantation, with neat rows of trees. The prisoners exited the buses and each one was handed a large, five-gallon basket.

"You know the rules. Work hard and keep your interactions to a minimum. Your quota is a _full_ basket of ripe berries only! Get to work." 

Murdoc and MacGyver were herded towards the second row of trees. MacGyver noted with sour amusement that all of the berries were ripe. 

"Pick away. We're at the end of the season. Don't worry about bruising the fruit. Just gather them up and drop them in. Simple, but boring." 

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost two months." 

"These trees provide pretty good cover."

"Sure, but there are obstacles. Both prison guards and plantation security, including dogs, patrol the grounds in shifting patterns. We're not given second chances, either. Escaping prisoners are shot, not recaptured. And, we're a long way from anyplace secure. The plantation owner, Raul, owns almost all of the land around here."

"Well, if it was easy, you wouldn't be here," MacGyver sighed. 

"I love it, when you compliment me," Murdoc said, smugly.

"Don't let it go to your head. You're still a criminal who needs to be in jail." 

Murdoc just chuckled, ending the conversation, when he saw a guard coming by, glaring at them. They worked silently and the work was as boring as Murdoc had promised. MacGyver entertained himself by imagining tools he could make to speed up the work. Ultimately, though, that proved frustrating. He would love to build something, but he had nothing to build with. The only thing he had was a bucket and the chain connecting his ankles together and connecting him to Murdoc. 

"How's your singing voice?" 

MacGyver started, looking up at Murdoc, bewildered.

"My singing voice?" 

"Yeah." 

"Um. I don't make people's ears bleed, but I wouldn't call it one of my talents," MacGyver said, shrugging. 

"Sing with me," Murdoc instructed. "Come on, Angus! The whole "whistle while you work" thing does have some merit." 

"No whistling!" MacGyver retorted, sharply, earning a sarcastic grin from Murdoc. 

"You don't like whistling? Hm. Fine, fine, we'll stick to singing," Murdoc assured him blandly. 

Singing apparently was one of Murdoc's talents. His voice was smooth and pleasant. MacGyver wasn't sure if he should be surprised or not, that Murdoc chose to sing "Whistle While You Work." He definitely wasn't surprised that Murdoc broke his word, whistling merrily in the appropriate places. MacGyver just shook his head, singing along. 

"Aw, see now, you have a nice voice. You just need practice," Murdoc praised, smirking.

"Thanks," MacGyver said dryly. 

He hated it, when Murdoc was right, even just about singing. Agreeing with the sociopath felt unnatural and wrong, like something MacGyver should fight against. He almost felt he should argue with Murdoc, even if he claimed two plus two equals four. Still singing along, MacGyver amused himself by coming up with wild equations where he could twist it, so two plus two represented other things. He only felt a bit guilty, that it was deliberately bad math. He abandoned the line of thought, when Murdoc switched songs.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in..." Murdoc crooned, softly.

MacGyver blinked, too surprised to join in. "Can't Help Falling In Love?" Really? He waited for an edge of sarcasm to appear in the sociopath's voice, but Murdoc sang the song simply and easily. MacGyver went back to picking berries, finding it a bit tempting to stop and stare at Murdoc. Murdoc noticed, arching an eyebrow at MacGyver, but not stopping the song. 

"What? You're not in the mood for Elvis?" Murdoc asked, annoyed, once he finished.

"I'm surprised you even like Elvis," MacGyver retorted. 

"Who doesn't like Elvis?" Murdoc asked, seeming genuinely mystified. 

"I don't know. There has to be someone. Death metal fans?" 

"Nope. Music haters, _maybe_." 

"Maybe. I just thought you would disdain anything sentimental." 

"I don't _disdain_ emotions, Angus. Mine are just duller and harder to engage than most people's." 

"Okay. Fine. Sorry." 

"What sort of music did you expect me to like? Murder ballads?" Murdoc scoffed.

"Do you like murder ballads?" 

"Well. Not exclusively. I like anything that's done well. I love _art_." 

"Shut up down there!" a guard called from the head of their row. 

As if in defiance of MacGyver's expectations, Murdoc began singing again. 

"Close every door to me, Hide all the world from me..." 

MacGyver shook his head, silently granting Murdoc his point, even as his own uneasiness grew. MacGyver grimaced, realizing he couldn't avoid learning more about Murdoc. Like it or not, he would be forced to see the man behind the murderer. Part of MacGyver was curious and intrigued at the prospect, but mostly he just felt wary. He couldn't allow greater knowledge of Murdoc's humanity to cloud his judgment. Murdoc was a danger, not only to others, but to MacGyver himself. A temporary truce didn't change that. 

**April 15th. 10:16 P.M.**

MacGyver was only half asleep and woke up, when Murdoc stopped giving the occasional hiss of pain and started swearing, panting a bit. 

"What's wrong?" MacGyver asked, wondering if Murdoc had bumped his leg. 

"Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken leg?" Murdoc snapped, glaring over at his bunkmate. 

"Yeah. I've had one twice," MacGyver admitted, getting up, glad to have a problem he could actually fix. "Good thing it's warm out. Can you sleep without a blanket?" 

"If I have to." 

MacGyver gave a wry smile and gathered up his and Murdoc's blankets. He folded the first up six times, then laid it horizontally across the lower part of Murdoc's bed. The other blanket was folded four times and laid vertically across the first blanket, then folded the end closest to Murdoc up over the bump. 

"Lay down so your hamstring is resting on the blanket closest to you and your leg is elevated," MacGyver instructed.

Sulking, Murdoc obeyed. He sighed, laying back against his pillow.

"Isn't sleeping on your back supposed to be bad for you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, but this is temporary. It's harder to elevate your leg comfortably, if you're on your side." 

"Hm, true," Murdoc admitted, his tone growing sleepy. 

"You're welcome." 

"Mm. I'm no use to you, if I'm half asleep and in constant pain." 

"If you want to believe that, I can't stop you," MacGyver said, shaking his head. "Truth is, though, I don't actually want you in pain. Evil or not, you're still a person." 

"And you don't want to see anyone die today," Murdoc quoted, wryly.

"No, I don't," MacGyver agreed. "Now, go to sleep." 

MacGyver climbed back into his own bed, more than ready to sleep, himself. He shut his eyes, enjoying the silence. He was just barely awake enough to hear, when Murdoc whispered to him again.

"Thanks, Boyscout."

**April 20th. 6 P.M.**

"Murdoc, you're insane," MacGyver scoffed, taking a bite of the baked chicken they'd been fed for dinner.

"You keep saying that. I don't disagree," Murdoc assured him.

"Look. I'm not saying Loki isn't a _sympathetic_ villain. He is! But, he's still a villain." 

"Not in the last two movies," Murdoc countered.

"Okay, he was given a _redemption_ arc. Sort of. Heroes don't get those. Villains do!" 

"I'm not calling him a hero, just more...neutral. And, it wasn't redemption, so much as family reconciliation. He didn't _change_ so much as grow up. A little." 

"Murdoc. He was the main villain of the first Avengers movie. Leading an invasion is not neutral behavior!" 

"Sure, but that was a one-time thing. His behavior was villainous, if you consider politics through conquering villainous. Still, one single act doesn't define a person." 

"Yes, I do, and it wasn't a single act. Stressed or not, Loki tried to commit genocide in the first Thor movie. So, that's _two_ instances of villainous behavior."

"Temporary insanity."

"Not so temporary, actually," MacGyver countered dryly. "Is that the appeal? You have lunacy in common?"

"Nah, I just think Tom Hiddleston is hot," Murdoc said, smirking. 

MacGyver blinked, caught off guard. He gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head.

"You said you find humans repulsive." 

Murdoc went still, blinking and bemused. He paused thoughtfully, before replying.

"Did I actually say that?" he wondered.

"Uh, yeah. When you kidnapped me and told me that lie about Cassian's mom." 

"Oh. Hm. Well, I tend to feed you the sort of things you expect from me." 

"Why not be honest?" 

"Because, boyscout, you still wouldn't believe me and it wouldn't be as much fun." 

"Whatever."

"You don't think Loki is attractive?" Murdoc teased.

"Bruce Banner's more my type," MacGyver shot back.

"You just want inside his brain," Murdoc scoffed. 

"He has a lot of brain to get inside of," MacGyver agreed, easily. 

"Boyscout." 

"Lunatic." 

"Hah." 

**April 27th 2 P.M.**

MacGyver hauled a basket of wet sheets from the laundry to the waiting clotheslines. He didn't know why they were allowed washing machines, but not dryers, not that it mattered. He dragged a sheet out of the basket and carefully draped it over the waiting clothesline. They weren't allowed clothes pins, either, which was even more disappointing. MacGyver almost envied Murdoc, who was in charge of loading the washing machines. MacGyver wasn't sure if he'd been granted that position or simply taken it. 

A heavy blow between his shoulder blades sent MacGyver sprawling, knocking over his basket. He had the absurd thought that Murdoc would be irritated, if he had to redo a load. Looking up, MacGyver saw Rodrigo and two inmates he didn't know looming over him. Rodrigo smiled, his lips twisted in evil joy. The other two just glared. 

"Prison is a place of punishment, federale," Rodrigo spat. "And, I owe you some payback. These are Manuel and Erik. They hate federales almost as much as I do. " 

MacGyver rolled away, managing to get to his feet, before Rodrigo and his friends could close in on him. MacGyver darted away from the clothesline, not wanting to lose sight of his opponents amongst the hanging laundry. Rodrigo stormed towards MacGyver, who managed to dodge past him, only to find himself facing the other two. A hard fist pounded into MacGyver's cheek, sending him reeling. The other prisoners formed a circle around them, cheering them on, not caring who won. 

MacGyver pushed away his forming panic. His cheek ached, an omen of pain to come. Rodrigo closed in on him, herding him towards the others. MacGyver felt strong arms grab him, pinning his arms. He struggled, almost slipping lose, until Rodrigo drove a hard fist into his gut. Erik managed to get a more secure grip on MacGyver, grabbing his hair and pulling back his head. 

"Scream, federale. It's been a while, since we had such pretty, new meat." 

Rodrigo laughed, stepping forward to deliver another blow. Instead, a sharp thunk sent him reeling to the ground. 

"Rodrigo, Rodrigo," Murdoc scolded, with mock gentleness, his crutch held tightly in his hands. "You should've listened." 

Murdoc swung the armrest of his crutch, slamming the end into Rodrigo's temple. Rodrigo screamed, curling in on himself, allowing Murdoc to drive the foot of his good leg into Rodrigo's kidney. 

"If you kill him, the guards might break your other leg," Silvio called out, laughing. 

"They might," Murdoc agreed, mildly, shrugging. 

"We'll spare them the trouble," Manuel boasted, nodding at Erik, who nodded back, but grimly. 

They tried to rush Murdoc, but he ignored the spikes of pain in his leg, dodging nimbly. Released, MacGyver drove himself into Erik, sending him sprawling. MacGyver pinned him, with ruthless efficiency, driving his fist into Erik's nose. His aim was a bit sloppy from panic and anger and one of his blows landed directly between Erik's eyes, stunning him. Realizing his crew was finished, Manuel raised his hands in defeat, facing Murdoc's cheerful grin with horror. 

"Murdoc. Don't," MacGyver ordered, standing. 

"Don't what?" Murdoc asked, innocently, placing his crutch back under his arm and taking his weight off of his leg. 

"Pretty much anything," MacGyver said dryly. 

"You never want me to have any fun," Murdoc complained. 

The other inmates whispered, stunned at the turn of events. Everyone backed off, going back to their tasks, ignoring the fallen trio. MacGyver gave a huff, rolling his eyes, looking around for his basket. 

"Nevermind the laundry, Angus," Murdoc said, warily. "I'm afraid we're not out of trouble yet." 

MacGyver looked up and saw a couple of guards approaching. 

"Go back inside. You can't help me now," MacGyver urged. 

"Just follow orders and don't try to argue," Murdoc advised. "You won't sway them. It might help." 

MacGyver nodded, watching Murdoc go back in. The guards came up to him, one of them grabbing his arms. 

"Leave it to a federale to cause trouble," the taller one spat. "I think you need a time out." 

**April 28th. 7 A.M.**

MacGyver leaned against the pole he was chained to. The guards had placed him in a far corner of the camp, that was used for punishing prisoners. His hands were chained in front of him and his ankles were chained closely together. He could both sit and lay down, though not very comfortably. There wasn't enough chain for him to stand up straight. 

MacGyver tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore his thirst and hunger. He'd been given a cupful of water last night, but no food. The second cup of water he'd been given a couple of hours ago was probably all they planned to give him for breakfast.

"You look miserable," Murdoc commented, startling MacGyver out of his thoughts. 

"I've had better days," MacGyver agreed wearily. 

Murdoc set a tray of food on MacGyver's lap, then sat down close to him.

"Here. This should help. I convinced the servers to give me Rodrigo's breakfast."

"I was told Rodrigo's in the infirmary. Won't they feed him there?" 

"Probably. Go on, Angus. Eat." 

"Thanks," MacGyver said, obeying. 

They sat for a bit in silence, as MacGyver ate. He wasn't sure, if he should be surprised or not, that Murdoc stayed. They'd spent the past two weeks working and eating together. They'd talked, but mostly only to share information and to find things to argue about. Looking back, MacGyver was grateful for even that much. Challenging Murdoc's twisted thinking had provided much-needed mental stimulation. 

"Why did Helman take you with him, when he escaped the black site?" 

"He planned to kill me, once we were clear. He didn't want to do it there, since the guards would have tightened his security, after. I just managed to get away." 

"Ironic. We put him in there to give you something to focus on, other than making escape plans." 

"I thought it was punishment." 

"Well, we were pretty pissed off. No matter where we put you, you kill." 

"Brilliant as you are, you're not very good at sociopath management, Angus." 

"Oh? Got any tips for me?" MacGyver asked, feeling surprisingly amused. 

"We're attention whores," Murdoc claimed, shrugging. "I didn't plan on escaping, when I turned myself in. You ignored me. My best intentions didn't extend to being essentially buried alive." 

"So, if I had visited you and gotten help from you, you would have stayed put?" MacGyver scoffed. 

"Maybe. You and I are alike, MacGyver. We need our minds stimulated to survive." 

"What about Cassian? Did you plan on taking him on the run again?"

"No, not at all. I thought I would find a way to pay him regular visits. I just hadn't figured out how." 

"How long do they usually keep people out here?" MacGyver asked, awkwardly changing the subject.

"I've never seen anyone out here more than three days. Normally, you'd get only enough water to keep you alive. Well, unless it rains." 

"Normally."

"The guards really don't like you. You're not a criminal and not one of them. You're an America agent." 

"So I need to get in good with the guards?" 

Murdoc paused, then burst into laughter.

"Oh, Angus. You're so clever, but so naive. How do you plan to do that?" 

"I don't know. Fix something? Help them out somehow? I thought you might suggest something."

"I suggest you abandon the idea. It'd most likely backfire and make the inmates resent you even more. Just work on getting us out of here." 

"Yeah, great idea. What I need is a way to get in contact with the Phoenix. Is there any way, other than getting in trouble, to get inside the warden's office?" 

"No. He actually has very little contact with the prisoners and then it's always with us in a group." 

"There has to be a black market. Can any of the inmates get me a cell phone?" 

"And what would you give said inmate in return?" 

"I don't know. What would that go for?" 

"You'd probably have to bed or kill someone." 

"Well, aren't you a bundle of sunshine," MacGyver observed sarcastically. 

"Cell phones are highly contraband and amazingly difficult to get hold of," Murdoc reminded him, with equal sarcasm.

"Do you have one?" MacGyver asked suspiciously. "You said, if you killed someone..."

"No, MacGyver," Murdoc sighed. "Who would I call?" 

"Someone you could pay to break us out?"

"If it worked that way, prison breaks would be a lot more common, Angus. I suppose I could try to get one for you..."

"Yeah, no. Just don't," MacGyver said, sternly. 

"Oh, don't worry. I'm actually not sure anyone here is that competent." 

"Certainly not Rodrigo." 

Murdoc laughed and MacGyver had to admit it was a pleasant sound, when no one was being hurt...or maybe he was just tired and grateful for the company. Murdoc was certainly keeping his end of their bargain. Bad as this punishment was, the beating he could have taken from Rodrigo and his men would have been much worse.

"How's your leg? You put a lot of weight on it, during the fight."

"It hurts, but that's life for you," Murdoc answered, glibly. "I might have set the healing back a day or two."

"Meaning a week or two," MacGyver retorted, feeling a pang of guilt. 

"If you say so, Boyscout. How about some music?" Murdoc suggested, pulling a small radio from his pocket. 

MacGyver obligingly kept quiet, listening. Music drifted between them, a sole spot of beauty in the bleak space they shared. 

**May 5th. 6 A.M.**

MacGyver walked away from the food line, heading for an empty table near the windows. He wondered why he bothered. The view of the prison was hardly inspiring. He was pondering the benefits of sunlight and almost collided with another prisoner. MacGyver tensed, expecting sharp words, possibly even an invitation to fight. Instead, the young prisoner, Carlos, MacGyver remembered, gulped a bit, backing away and giving MacGyver a slight nod. 

MacGyver watched Carlos hurry away and frowned in confusion. He changed directions and headed for the same table as Silvio and Miguel. 

"Mind some more company?" 

"Not at all. Sit down, MacGyver," Miguel encouraged.

"Thanks." 

"Where is El Mal?" Miquel asked, indifferently.

"He's staying off his leg for a couple of days. He put a lot of weight on it, during our fight with Rodrigo." 

"Was that his idea or yours?" 

"I suggested it and he agreed," MacGyver said, shrugging. 

Miguel and Silvio exchanged a knowing glance, smirking just slightly.

"What?" MacGyver asked, annoyed.

"Nothing. What can we do for you, MacGyver?" Silvio asked, amused. 

"Do you know why Carlos is acting funny?" 

"He isn't." 

"You don't find the way he backed off from me a bit odd? He's usually a fighter." 

Silvio and Miguel both laughed. 

"You are a strange man. You either underestimate El Mal or yourself. Perhaps both," Silvio said, grinning.

"What do you mean?" 

"You do understand El Mal is dangerous?"

"I probably understand that better than you do," MacGyver assured him drily. 

"Yet, you influence him. He listens to you." 

"I what?!" MacGyver asked, incredulous. 

"You tell him to be quiet or stay off his leg. He does. You tell him not to hurt Rodrigo and he doesn't. Do you know why?"

"Not really," MacGyver admitted. "We agreed to be allies in here, but..."

"But, he doesn't actually need you, especially once his leg heals." 

"I'm not sure he needs me now." 

"Exactly."

"Exactly what?" MacGyver pressed, bewildered. 

"El Mal, for whatever reason, has chosen you. He defers to no one, not even the guards, but defers to you. If he doesn't need you, he must want you and he seems to respect you." 

"Yeah, I wouldn't call it respect." 

"But, I would and so would many others here. We won't risk you bringing El Mal down on us."

"What did he do, before I got here? Besides kill people. I mean, he's not the only murderer in this place." 

"That's like comparing a child blowing a kazoo to a flute player in an orchestra," Miguel chided. 

"What did El Mal do? He kept to himself, as much as possible. He ate, drank, and worked along with us, but apart. El Mal sang and daydreamed and walked around. He waited and, as you said, he killed. El Mal did not hold conversations or sit beside those being punished," Silvio answered. 

"It's not like that," MacGyver protested, shaking his head and drawing more laughter from his tablemates. 

"Yes, it is," Silvio promised him, smiling.


	3. Cards + Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and MacGyver spend a rainy day talking and playing cards.

**May 8th. 11 A.M.**

MacGyver lounged on his bed, listening to the steady thump of rain on the roof.

"There has to be some work they need done, even with it raining so much," he complained to Murdoc, who was sitting on the floor, stretching. 

"You want to be used as slave labor?" Murdoc retorted, amused.

"I want out of this room," MacGyver sighed, twisting a paperclip into a set of scales.

In a surprising display of empathy, Murdoc had provided MacGyver with a swiss army knife and a large supply of paperclips. MacGyver kept the presence of the knife well hidden, even from the other inmates, but he could use it freely in his room. Disposing of his paperclip sculptures might become a problem, if he didn't find something else to do. 

"We could play cards," Murdoc suggested, lifting himself onto his own bed. 

"You have cards?" MacGyver asked, surprised. 

"Don't be so surprised," Murdoc scolded. "I get bored, too." 

"You know, not everything I say to you is meant as a jibe," MacGyver told him pointedly, tucking his knife into his pillow, then standing. 

He scooted their small table into a position between their beds, moving his bed close enough to sit on comfortably. Murdoc watched, amused, already shuffling his cards, which MacGyver noted were brand new. 

"If you say so, Angus," Murdoc soothed. "Egyptian Ratscrew or Golf?" 

"You know, the name is actually Egyptian Rat's Crew, not Ratscrew."

"Neither makes sense and Ratscrew is more fun," Murdoc retorted, grinning. "Is that a yes or no to the game?"

"Yes," MacGyver said, wryly, sitting down on his bed across from Murdoc. "I get to deal." 

"Ooo! Yes, sir," Murdoc laughed, handing over the cards. 

MacGyver smirked, taking the cards and shuffling them, before dealing them out. 

They played one round fairly rapidly. Both were highly competitive to the surprise of neither. By the end of the round, the backs of their hands were a light pink, from getting slapped, trying to claim the pile first. Murdoc won the first round, scooping up the pile with a twirl of his long fingers. Until now, MacGyver had forced away any curiosity about Murdoc, but finally gave in and asked. 

"Do you really paint?" 

Murdoc looked up, surprised into momentary silence, but then smiled.

"Yes and I really am a fan of Bob Ross." 

"When did you start painting...and why?" 

"I love art is why. I started shortly after I was introduced to Helman. He educated me in more than just killing. Ole Nick always thought the best assassins had to be more than thugs. He insisted that I be a gentleman assassin, educated and all that. Hm. He probably wasn't wrong." 

"So, you what? Have a secret stash of paintings somewhere? Or do you just paint over the canvases, once you're done?" 

"Stash is probably too strong a word. I don't have much time for painting, but I don't destroy my work, once I'm done with it." 

"Huh." 

"Why?"

"Just curious," MacGyver said, shrugging, not about to admit he'd been noticing the shape of Murdoc's hands. 

"Do I get to be curious?"

"With all your spying, is there anything interesting you don't know?" 

"Everything about you is interesting, Angus."

"That sounds obsessive. You're not going to start trying to copy me, I hope." 

Murdoc laughed, his shoulders shaking, sounding truly delighted. 

"Me trying to be like you would be just as absurd as your attempts to be like me." 

"Attempt. I only did that once." 

"Twice. Once for the Norrises and once for the Architect." 

"Yeah, okay, twice," MacGyver conceded, as Murdoc began dealing out cards for a second round.

"I heard a rumor that you actually got _kicked out_ of the Boyscouts," Murdoc said, with a hint of disbelief. "True or false?"

"True and I suppose you want to know why."

"I absolutely want to know why." 

"Okay, fine," MacGyver said, sighing, throwing a card onto the pile. "I accidentally broke another kid's arm." 

"Oh! A MacGyver contraption backfired?" 

"Nooo, it was just...a bit more powerful than I anticipated. The kid was a bully and I got tired of him picking on the smaller kids...including me. So, I rigged up a hammock with some pulleys and bungee cords. I meant for it to swing into him hard enough to knock him to the ground..." 

"And? Instead?" Murdoc prodded, incredulous, slapping and winning the pile.

"It sent him flying into a tree," MacGyver admitted, reluctantly. "He tried to protect his head, by throwing up his arm...and his arm broke. Fortunately, it was a clean break, but...yeah. They tossed me out and I didn't blame them."

"You felt guilty," Murdoc concluded.

"Of course I did!" MacGyver snapped, frowning. 

"You _still_ feel guilty!" Murdoc amended, incredulously. 

"Yeah, I mean, it's a bad memory for me." 

"Wow." 

MacGyver shook his head, not knowing what to make of Murdoc's tone. As usual, Murdoc sounded impressed and pleased, but disbelief and amusement were there, too. 

"You wouldn't have cared, at all? Even at that age?" 

"I don't know. Maybe a little. Did he stop?" 

"I only knew him through the Scouts. I never saw him again." 

"Hm. No. I don't think I would have felt bad. If he stopped, well, then the broken arm accomplished something. If not, then he was asking for it." 

"No one deserves to have a broken arm, Murdoc," MacGyver said, sighing. "Remember, he was a little kid, about nine! He wasn't a terrorist or something." 

"Hm, point," Murdoc conceded, reluctantly. "I wasn't actually violent, until I hit my teens." 

"Except towards spiders and pigeons, apparently."

"Hmmm?" Murdoc asked, then laughed. "Oh! Well, I lied about the pigeons and the spiders have it coming." 

"You're an arachnophobe?" 

"No. A phobia is an _irrational_ fear and hatred of something. I have good reasons for despising spiders. Ever been bit by a black widow?" 

"Fortunately, no." 

"Yeah, five-year-old me was not happy about it." 

"Ouch. So, why make up the story about the pigeons?" 

"I told you. I thought Jack would like it. He'd been so grumpy all day," Murdoc reminded MacGyver, rolling his eyes. 

"You thought Jack would like hearing about you killing animals?" 

"He likes explosions!" Murdoc snapped, slapping at the pile and hitting MacGyver's hand. 

"Explosions are only fun, when innocent people and animals aren't hurt by them," MacGyver explained, claiming the pile. 

"Fine! Lesson learned," Murdoc said, sulking. "I was trying to cheer him up." 

"Okay, fine," MacGyver soothed, shrugging. 

"Are you having any luck figuring out how to get us out of here?" 

"Yeah. The woods actually work in our favor. The guards are mid-level criminals. Only three seem the mercenary types. So, we should be able to lose them, once we hit the woods. Fortunately, our prison uniforms are made of polyester and you got me a knife. We'll survive. All we need is a way to get from here to the woods." 

"What happened to that x-ray machine?" Murdoc wondered, looking around. 

"I think the guards confiscated it, when we went to supper." 

"You must really be jonesing for some good tech." 

"It would certainly help. Working would help, too. That, at least, got us outside. As it is, I'm waiting for an opportunity." 

"We might have to make an opportunity." 

"We might, but I want this done with no killing, Murdoc," MacGyver warned. 

"Of course, you do," Murdoc sighed. "Just tell me you're making progress."

"I am," MacGyver assured him. "Look the more I know about this place, the better chance I have of making a plan that will work. We can't afford for it to backfire on us." 

"I know the risks." 

"Then, just be patient and let me do this." 

"Well, I hope you enjoy card games and being chatty, then, Boyscout. I really doubt this rain is going to let up any time soon." 

"Do you want to switch to poker?" 

Murdoc chuckled, shrugging. 

"Sure, Angus. Poker sounds good."


	4. Freedom and Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and MacGyver get free from prison, then have to make decisions about their futures.

**May 17th. 1:30 P.M.**

MacGyver and Murdoc walked around the prison compound, enjoying the rare day of sunshine. Large, fluffy clouds were hovering on the horizon and the scent of rain still filled the air. That night or tomorrow would undoubtedly bring more rain and another day spent indoors, but, for now, they could enjoy the open air. 

"You really don't like being indoors much, do you?" Murdoc asked.

"No, I don't really. I'd rather be outside, even when I'm reading or relaxing." 

"Yeah," Murdoc surprisingly agreed, stopping to stretch, lifting his crutch above his head. 

MacGyver couldn't help looking disapprovingly at the weight Murdoc was placing on his injured leg. 

"Quit," Murdoc ordered dryly. "It's been five weeks. I'm almost healed."

"Bull," MacGyver said, agreeably, grinning at him. "You would be almost healed, if you took better care of your leg." 

"Look, I'm a fast healer, okay?" 

"Right."

"No, I really am," Murdoc promised, in a serious tone. 

"Well, I hope so, because with any luck, you'll need to be able to move quickly soon." 

Murdoc eyed him suspiciously. 

"Boyscout. Have you been delaying things because of my leg?!" he hissed. 

MacGyver gifted him with a look of sunshiney innocence. 

"Hey, these things take time." 

Murdoc glared, looking murderous, and MacGyver felt cheerfully smug at being able to face that without a qualm. 

"I'm _fine_, thank you!" Murdoc gritted out, angrily.

"Look, that was only one part of the delay," MacGyver soothed, chuckling. "I really am waiting for our best opportunity, too." 

"Just get on with it," Murdoc said, sulkily, resuming walking. 

"You are such a child, sometimes." 

"Fortunately, for you, I'm a deadly child," Murdoc said gravely. "Do you have your knife on you?" 

"Yeah, why?" MacGyver asked, tensing.

"Because I don't think those trucks belong to the Rana cartel," Murdoc told him, pointing to the east of the camp. 

MacGyver turned and saw eight transport trucks rolling swiftly towards them. 

"Why are they attacking a prison?"

"Half the prisoners here are from their rivals the Moreno cartel. It's probably them."

"Why? They can always get new workers for their business."

"Hey, some cartels consider their members family, even low-ranking ones. Besides, if they succeed, they humiliate the Rana cartel and maybe cost them some business and exposure. Or take over the prison for themselves." 

"All right, makes sense, so..." 

Murdoc gave his creepiest grin. 

"...we steal one of those trucks." 

"Exactly," MacGyver agreed. 

The trucks had split off, heading for the compound from different directions. Two made for the main gate, while three went in the direction of the administration building. Murdoc frowned as a sixth went straight for the vegetable garden, as the seventh and eight went between the punishment and work areas. 

"Okay, they're destroying things I helped plant," he complained.

"You're not going to be here for harvest, anyway," MacGyver reminded him, amused. 

"It's still annoying."

"Just come on," MacGyver ordered, leading them both behind the barracks, heading for the administration building. 

Chaos was the word of the day, as the prisoners headed for the middle of the compound, trying to avoid getting hit by the trucks. The guards in the watchtowers opened fire, making the trucks swerve, using their elevated positions to their best advantages. 

Bazookas destroyed that advantage. 

"Wow," Murdoc observed, mildly. 

MacGyver didn't bother responding, picking up their pace and weaving around the buildings. They stopped a few yards away from the now-parked trucks, watching as Moreno soldiers poured out. MacGyver noted with interest that they, for the most part, avoided firing at the prisoners, who seemed happy enough to stay out of the way. Unfortunately, Rana guards, heavily armed, were thundering into the compound. 

Pain exploded in MacGyver's cheek, just below the corner of his eye. Reeling, he barely kept his feet. MacGyver looked, dismayed, finding two Rana guards and Donato Gallo looming over him. Gallo's mouth was twisted into a bitter sneer. 

"The Moreno cartel is winning a victory today. I might not live through it," he admitted, angrily. "But, you know? I can at least have the satisfaction of knowing you won't see tomorrow, either. Your executioners are Raul and Poncio, two of my best men." 

"Good to meet you," MacGyver said dryly, as dread built like acid in his stomach. 

Raul stepped forward, raising his arm to drive his fist into MacGyver's jaw. MacGyver ducked under his arm, spinning around and planting his fist in Raul's armpit. Raul cursed and spun away himself, glaring. A sharp pain lanced into MacGyver's back, as Poncio took advantage of his distraction. MacGyver flinched, trying to back away and give himself room to run, but the three men circled around, blocking him. Together, Raul and Poncio delivered a vicious flurry of blows that put MacGyver on the ground. Gasping, MacGyver struggled to a sitting position, looking around anxiously. 

"Are you looking for Murdoc? Why should he help you now, when he can get help from the Moreno cartel?"

"Because I like the boyscout," Murdoc admitted, cheerfully, coming up behind Gallo and wrapping a belt around his neck, pulling it tight. 

Raul and Poncio turned towards Murdoc, pulling their pistols out. Gallo tried to shake his head, but that only tightened the belt further, making him gag. 

"Release him!" Raul demanded. 

"Oh!" Murdoc exclaimed sarcastically, laughing. "Are you going to shoot your boss, boys?" 

"It'd be worth it, to kill you," Poncio snarled, angrily.

"Hm. Fair point," Murdoc admitted, shrugging. "It's not like I'll spare him, in any case." 

"Murdoc," MacGyver snapped, frowning deeply. 

MacGyver flinched, hearing three sharp retorts of gunfire. He focussed on Murdoc, but he was uninjured. The bullet that tore out Gallo's throat had just missed hitting Murdoc in the shoulder. Murdoc shoved Gallo's corpse, so he lay next to the dead bodies of his men. Murdoc looked around in confusion, wondering who had made the kills. 

"Murdoc! Maje, what are you doing here?" a Moreno soldier asked, coming from behind one of the trucks. 

"Why, Jafet!" Murdoc greeted. "Any chance of a lift?" 

"I would, if I could, maje, but Giorgio Arce is here. He's not going to let you and an American federale go free." 

"Oh, hell," Murdoc responded, rolling his eyes.

"What does Arce have against you?" MacGyver asked. "I'm assuming you killed someone."

"His brother, Emilio," Murdoc agreed. 

"It's rude to kill your host, maje," Jafet scolded mildly, "but...I probably would have done the same." 

"What do you mean?" MacGyver prodded, frowning heavily.

"He means, Emilio made the same mistake you often make. He forgot that I'm other things in addition to a morally challenged assassin," Murdoc said with quiet anger. "Including a father." 

"I'll tell you what," Jafet offered. "I can't take you out of here, but I can get you out the fence. The forest is only twenty yards. Go while everyone is distracted." 

"Thanks, Jafet." 

MacGyver and Murdoc squeezed through the torn-open fence at the back of Jafet's truck. Despite Murdoc's leg, they had to run. MacGyver tried to set an easy pace, which slowed them, filling them both with tension. They stopped twenty feet into the forest, gasping in surprised exhilaration at making it so far, unchallenged. 

"Okay, we need to get to the nearest town..."

"No, no, that's not necessary," Murdoc assured him. "I have a small cabin about twenty miles west of here, on the edges of the forest, just outside a small village. We can probably get there by noon tomorrow at the latest. From there, we can call the Phoenix." 

"All right. Let's get going. Keep an eye out for anything edible." 

"Of course, boyscout." 

They made good time, working their way carefully through the forest. MacGyver picked their path carefully, making sure they left no traces and keeping Murdoc away from tree roots, rocks, and tangled weeds that might trip him up. It was slow going, but MacGyver kept their pace steady. He decided Murdoc was right and they would cover ten miles that day and another ten the next. 

Around seven-thirty, MacGyver found a place to camp, where he could build a lean-to. He bent over to pick up a stick of wood and something swished over his head, crashing violently into the tree he was leaning against. MacGyver jumped, shocked that Murdoc was attacking. 

Except, Murdoc wasn't. The assassin had stepped back and was brandishing a dead snake in triumph. 

"Okay, really?" MacGyver scolded, half-glaring at his companion.

"Hey, meat is back on the menu, boyscout!" 

"Terrific. Except that means lighting a fire and giving away our position."

"I doubt they have that many resources to spare right now, no matter how much Giorgio hates me. Besides, he'll be expecting us to head for Honduras, not the lovely, little village of Sesori." 

"All right. We'll risk it. We'll just have to keep the fire banked low." 

"Something I know how to do. I'll do that, while you work on sleeping arrangements." 

"Uh huh." 

Murdoc was impressed with how much sarcasm MacGyver worked into those two little syllables. He stepped back and a small rock slid out from underneath his foot. Murdoc staggered and a surprising bolt of pain went through his nearly-healed leg. Hearing his involuntary hiss of pain, MacGyver spun back to face Murdoc.

"What did you do?" 

"I slipped a bit. Never mind. I'm fine."

"Because, of course, you are," MacGyver retorted, with fine sarcasm, swallowing back the stab of concern that threatened him. "Sit down and rest. I'll bring you stuff to make a fire." 

"Oh, yes, sir," Murdoc agreed ironically, sitting on some tree roots. 

"You're such a brat," MacGyver muttered, moving off to perform his tasks.

Murdoc just watched him go, chuckling lightly. 

"I don't, you know. We don't," MacGyver said, once they were settled around the small cookfire and waiting for the snake to roast. 

"Don't what?"

"Forget that you're a dad. Forget about Cassian. I mean, Jack's killed guys a lot less dangerous than you are, in order to protect me and our country." 

"That's appreciated, Angus, but not really what I meant."

"I don't think you always know what you mean," MacGyver hedged, not wanting to consider the point Murdoc was trying to make. "Is that meat nearly done?"

"We're actually waiting for those roots you gathered to soften up just a bit more, but yes," Murdoc responded dryly. "Supper is almost ready." 

"Good," MacGyver said, ignoring the faint suggestion of sorrow in Murdoc's eyes, by stooping to tend to the fire, feeding it small twigs and pieces of a larger branch. 

**May 18th. 11:30 A.M.**

MacGyver stared at the small, cozy-looking cottage that Murdoc was leading him towards. A stone staircase led to a house decorated with, if not made of, logs. Red tiles, set at a jaunty angle, formed the roof. This...was not what he had expected. Considering things honestly, MacGyver admitted to himself that a cave, a room above a seedy bar, or an empty warehouse might be crime drama cliches, but they didn't really fit what he knew of Murdoc. The cottage, though, just seemed absurdly homey. Surely Murdoc hadn't meant to bring Cassian here? 

"Come on, Boyscout, daylight is wasting," Murdoc prodded, holding his door open. 

"Ah. Yeah," MacGyver agreed, walking inside. 

"What were you expecting?" Murdoc asked, amused. 

"A hideout vibe. This place is more like a summer vacation home."

"Why be uncomfortable? I've stayed here for weeks, before, when I needed a secure place to wait." 

Walking into the living room, MacGyver would have responded, but his attention was drawn above the fireplace mantel. A large painting hung there, masterfully done in vibrant colors. The blood on the falcon's beak and claws looked ready to drip out of the painting and onto the floor. The falcon's eyes were nearly at the center of the painting and had been given an almost human expression of emotion. A nest with a single falcon chick rested firmly in the center of the painting, the focus of the other falcon's intense gaze. 

It was a beautiful and disturbing image of a predator caring for its child. 

"Well, what do you think?" Murdoc prodded, with manic eagerness. 

"You should stop killing and stick with painting," MacGyver said, dryly. "Not everyone would realize it's a self-portrait." 

"I wouldn't want everyone to know." 

"I guess not." 

"Come on. I'll display another skill I have, aside from killing. I want to eat something that isn't mass-produced." 

"That really isn't fair to Luis," MacGyver chided lightly.

"And, again, I don't care," Murdoc said, cheerfully, leading MacGyver to the kitchen. "Would you like to help?" 

"I actually am a terrible cook. I get distracted and burn things." 

"What do you get distracted by?" Murdoc asked, a bit mystified.

"The science of what I'm doing and ways to improve the processes," MacGyver explained, smirking. 

"Have a seat," Murdoc invited, dryly, waving at the kitchen table. 

MacGyver sat down, unease creeping over him. He should be calling the Phoenix. Why wait? He couldn't explain his own reluctance, so he sat, watching Murdoc preparing a meal for them. He pulled steak and chopped potatoes from the freezer and made a quick batch of biscuits. 

"You can call your team as soon as we've eaten," Murdoc told him, seeming to read MacGyver's thoughts. "You might even be home by nightfall." 

"Are you going to try and escape? You must have a vehicle." 

"That depends. Have I earned visits with my son, again?" 

"Yeah," MacGyver assured him, hiding his wince. 

"We agreed I would trade one prison for another," Murdoc reminded him, turning his attention back to preparing his food and cleaning the mess he was making.

"You didn't have to help me, to have contact with Cassian," MacGyver pointed out, taking a wild guess. "You know where he is." 

"He told me," Murdoc confirmed, shrugging. "That doesn't change that he's better off where he is, than on the run with me. He's in a safe, stable place. That's what is best, right?" 

"Right," MacGyver agreed, trying to sound calm and unaffected. 

Murdoc set their plates in front of them and they began to eat. For MacGyver, the silence was companionable, but marred with a sense of dread. Panic welled, as he realized just how emotionally compromised he was, now that home was so close. Murdoc wasn't just an enemy, anymore, or a problem to be solved. He was...MacGyver clamped down on himself, refusing to finish the thought. Last night, he hadn't wanted to think about it. Now, with rescue and going home so close, MacGyver couldn't think of anything else. He didn't know what Murdoc was to him, after an entire month of constant companionship. 

MacGyver didn't want to know, to deal with consequences of his own emotions.

"You didn't answer my question," MacGyver prodded.

"You didn't ask one," Murdoc retorted, reasonably.

MacGyver sighed, struggling, before admitting, "I don't know how to phrase it. Just...why? You don't need..._haven't_ needed me, not since I set your leg." 

Murdoc stared at him, an angry smile curving his lips. 

"The phone's in my nightstand, in the second room to the left down the hall. You better make your phone call, boyscout." 

"Answer my question," MacGyver persisted. 

Murdoc shoved himself away from the table, storming off to his bedroom. MacGyver reluctantly followed. He didn't really believe Murdoc was going for a pistol, but...MacGyver knew he sometimes drove people crazy. And, Murdoc had started off there. He caught up to Murdoc and found him brandishing, not a gun, but a cellphone. Angrily, Murdoc thrust it in MacGyver's direction.

"Call your buddies, Angus."

"No. Not until you answer me. Why have you stopped trying to kill me?" 

"You really don't want to know the answer to that," Murdoc warned, a savage light in his eyes." 

"Maybe, but I'm still asking." 

Growling angrily, Murdoc darted forward, grabbing MacGyver's face between his hands. MacGyver stiffened, not sure what was happening. Fear and hope warred in him, though he couldn't have identified what he feared or hoped for. Murdoc's mouth latching onto MacGyver's answered all of his questions nicely. The burst of pleasure he felt staggered him. Relaxing, his breath shuddering, MacGyver tentatively touched the tip of his tongue to Murdoc's lower lip. 

Murdoc pulled back, his eyes wide, his body thrumming with tension. 

"Murdoc," MacGyver whispered, swallowing hard, reaching out to place his hands on Murdoc's shoulders.

Murdoc stared hard into MacGyver's eyes, then pressed him into the wall, continuing the kiss. Kisses turned to petting and petting to undressing. Soon, they were entangled on top of Murdoc's bed, the phone dropped to the floor and forgotten. They made love with quiet intensity, finally admitting and giving in to desire. They lay together, after, still entangled, neither moving away.

"You have to make that phone call, boyscout," Murdoc murmured, still holding MacGyver close.

"Say it." 

"No." 

"Murdoc..." 

Murdoc gave an angry hiss, rearing up over MacGyver and staring deep into his eyes, unblinking.

"Fine. I love you. Did you _really_ want to hear that?" 

MacGyver blinked, puzzled at Murdoc's anger.

"Murdoc, I..."

"Don't!" Murdoc commanded, his tone warier, now, than angry. 

MacGyver frowned, hurt and confused.

"You love me, but don't want me to love you?" 

Murdoc blinked, then tilted his head, studying MacGyver avidly. Smiling, he shook his head slightly, in confused wonder. MacGyver shut his eyes briefly, then sighed.

"You didn't think I would believe you. Lying naked with you, in _your_ bed, you expected me to snark at you?" 

"Pretty much," Murdoc admitted, his usual, cool calm back in place. Giving a soft growl, MacGyver flipped them, surprising Murdoc. MacGyver leaned down, resting his forehead lightly on Murdoc's. 

"What am I going to do with you?" 

"Send me to prison," Murdoc said, his tone almost soft. "Will you visit me this time?" 

"Yes, I'll visit," MacGyver promised, though his mind was already struggling to find a way to make that unnecessary. "Like I _started_ to say, I love you, too." 

"The rest of Team Phoenix isn't going to like that." 

"No, but they'll adjust." 

"Unless, you plan on just staying here forever...or until Giorgio catches up to us." 

MacGyver groaned, pushing away.

"You are a pain in the ass!" 

"Excuse you," Murdoc retorted, smirking. 

MacGyver gave a huff of laughter, retrieving the phone and powering it up. 

"_Hello?_" Matty asked, warily. 

"Matty, it's Mac," he greeted.

"_Mac! Did you escape? We were told you had been sent to prison!_" 

"Yes to both. I'm someplace safe for the moment, though and could use a ride home." 

"_Where are you?_" 

"Just outside a small village called Sesori. There's one other thing though. I'm not alone. Murdoc is with me." 

"_Murdoc! MacGyver..._"

"I'm okay, Matty," MacGyver assured her. "He's turning himself in again. It's...a long story. I'll tell you, once I'm home, okay?" 

"_Mac, the quickest I can get anyone there is three hours._" 

"That's fine, Matty. I'm safe. I promise."

"_Be very careful, Mac. We'll see you soon._"

"See you soon, Matty." 

"How soon?" Murdoc asked. 

"We have a minimum of three hours," MacGyver said, grinning, crawling back onto the bed. 

"Excellent," Murdoc said with greedy glee. 

**May 19th 8 A.M**

MacGyver sat in the conference room, shifting nervously. Matty had allowed his debriefing to wait, until he had a good night's sleep, in his own bed. The entire team had met here an hour ago, to listen to MacGyver's story. He'd told them everything, except that he and Murdoc had made love. 

"Mac? Are you okay?" Bozer asked. "Being in prison with that guy..."

"He kept me safe and sane, Bozer," MacGyver interrupted, playing with the fold of his pants over his knee.

"MacGyver? What aren't you telling us?" 

"I love him," MacGyver announced. 

"You've got to be kidding," Desi said, severely.

"I'm not. I got to know him, in prison, a lot better. We...understand each other. Sort of. In an 'agree to disagree' way."

"You're both brilliant and he can be charming," Matty conceded. "But, he can't be trusted. He has a large debt to pay to society." 

"I wouldn't ask you to free him," MacGyver assured her.

"What are you asking?" Desi asked, warily. 

"Murdoc owes a debt," MacGyver repeated, spreading his hands in acknowledgment. "Why not let him pay that debt? He has a lot of information and, as you said, Matty, a brilliant mind. He could help us. He's offered to help us." 

"In exchange for what, though?" Riley prodded. "He's not gonna do it for nothing."

"He might. He doesn't know I'm...he thinks he's going to prison, in exchange for nothing more than visits from Cassian and me," MacGyver countered. 

"You're emotionally compromised," Desi told him, flatly. 

"Bro, maybe you should take some time and think about all this," Bozer advised, gently. "You just got home. You aren't dependent on him here. You might see things differently, in a few days." 

"Well. He's going to be in jail at least that long, no matter what we decide. But. I'm not going to change my mind, Bozer. I know how I feel and it's _not_ dependent. I helped him, as much as he helped me."

"You said you weren't asking for him to be released," Desi reminded him. 

"I'm not. I was actually thinking of something along the lines of house arrest."

"Which house?" Bozer asked, alarmed.

MacGyver gave him a sad smile.

"Bozer. I want him with me." 

"You realize there are limits to what I can authorize?" Matty asked. "Even if I thought this was a good idea, which I do not, I would have to convince others. Those people are more likely to insist on you being fired." 

"We've made deals with worse people," MacGyver insisted.

"How can you even think about trusting him not to kill you?" Riley demanded.

"I've slept next to him, for the past five weeks, every night," MacGyver reminded them. "If he wanted me dead, I would be." 

"All right. Fair enough," Matty conceded. "But, we can barely keep him in a maximum-security prison. How are we supposed to keep him in a house? With an ankle bracelet?"

"Which you could easily remove," Desi added.

"I wouldn't, though," MacGyver retorted. "I love the guy. I'm not blinded by him. He's too dangerous to be loose in society and he has to answer for his crimes." 

"You fell in love with a murderer. At the very _least_, we have to question your judgment...and probably your loyalty, too." 

MacGyver deflated a bit, nodding reluctantly.

"I know. I can't blame you for that. I know what I'm doing, but...my motives are selfish.   
I do believe he can help us, but I want to help him, too." 

"I'm not making a decision here and now," Matty told them. "Mac, go do some lab work. I don't want you in the field, until this is settled and I know your mind is back in the game." 

MacGyver nodded, standing up. 

"I know how this looks," he told them. "You have to question me, now, but...I wouldn't...I know your safety, other people's safety, has to come first. I just...I had to try." 

"Go on, Mac," Matty urged, her tone softer than he had expected. 

Once he was gone, everyone took a deep breath. 

"Oh, this is bad," Riley muttered. 

"Are you going to keep him on?" Desi asked Matty.

"Yes, I am. Are you staying?"

Desi looked away, grimacing, but then nodded.

"Yeah. I still owe Jack and...I might not trust him, right now, but I do care. He needs protection more than ever." 

"Riley? Is this going to affect you working with Mac?" 

"No. I want to knock some sense into him, but I'm not abandoning him over it."

"Bozer?"

"We've all got our issues with Murdoc," Bozer said, "but, I love Mac one helluva lot more than I hate Murdoc."

"Am I the only one not being lead by my emotions?" Desi asked, annoyed. 

"Probably. I don't even hate the guy," Riley agreed. "I just want us all to be safe from him." 

Bozer nodded, slowly.

"Well, we won't be safe, if he's just under house arrest," Desi retorted. 

"On the other hand, Mac does have a point. Murdoc has a _lot_ of information we could use. It might be worth it, to get his on-going cooperation," Matty reasoned. 

"And, I'd be in the house, too," Bozer agreed. "I'd be keeping an eye on both of them." 

"You're all insane," Desi declared, shaking her head. "Whatever. I'll abide by your decision." 

"I haven't actually made one, yet," Matty said, amused. 

"Okay, but, as you said, we can barely keep him in maximum security. How would we keep him under house arrest?"

"He turned himself in," Bozer reasoned. "He didn't have to. Why bother with maximum security, if it doesn't work anyway? Maybe, we can control him, by giving him reasons to cooperate with us."

"Yeah, reasons that don't include using his kid as leverage. Murdoc hates that. Maybe we can buy his goodwill. He's made and kept deals with us before," Riley said, shrugging. 

"All right. That gives me plenty of things to think about. Get back to work."


	5. Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc is given house arrest. Riley makes a decision and takes charge.

**May 27th, 2019. 2 P.M.**

Murdoc sat behind the glass partition in the visiting area, his eyes closed. His mind was busy, formulating possibilities and his own possible reactions. He knew MacGyver wasn't visiting. His lover was currently out of the country, on his first mission, since coming back from El Salvador. Hearing footsteps, Murdoc opened his eyes to see James MacGyver standing in front of him. Murdoc blinked, then gave an amused grin.

"Papa Bear! Are you here to ask me my intentions?"

"Something like that. Do you know what my son has requested?" 

"Conjugal visits?" 

"He doesn't need permission for that," James retorted, shrugging. "He wants you placed under house arrest, in his custody." 

Murdoc shook his head, his shoulders trembling from the force of his deep, belly laughs. 

"Oh! Your son is just precious. Can you blame me for loving him?" 

"My question is why does he love a lunatic like you?" 

"Oh, now, I have my good points! Though, I don't really expect you to see that. And, sanity is not one of them," Murdoc conceded, shrugging. "Optimist that he is, Angus must expect you to say no."

"Actually, I'm considering it."

"Didn't we just establish that _I'm_ the lunatic here?" 

"Yes, but I'm considering it, anyway."

"In exchange for what?" Murdoc asked, shrewdly. 

"What you've offered before. Information and assistance. If this happens, you'll spend one day a week in debriefing or giving us any aid we decide you can give us." 

"Fair enough. In fact, it's a little bit _too_ fair."

"I'm not doing this to get anything out of you, really. That's just a bonus. I'm doing this, because I owe my son." 

"Oh, yes, the whole Mason thing. He told me about that, one rainy day." 

"If you hurt him, I won't send you back to prison, Murdoc. I'll kill you. I promise you that. You will be very closely watched." 

"No worries, Papa Bear. I'll take good care of him." 

"You better." 

**June 8th, 2019. 3 P.M.**

Riley took a deep breath, swallowing back anger and dread. The morality of Murdoc being under house arrest was an extremely dark shade of gray and, despite his assurances, she worried for MacGyver. The whole situation sucked, but...MacGyver's happiness was involved. 

In the few years she'd known him, Riley'd never known MacGyver to be truly happy. He seemed content and together, mostly. MacGyver obviously held a deep love for his work and an even deeper one for his friends. Happiness, though, seemed to allude the genius. MacGyver was always struggling with something, first Nikki's apparent betrayal, then Patty's actual one, and then discovering his father and all his secrets.

Riley would have added loving Murdoc to the list, except...

Murdoc seemed to make MacGyver happy. It'd only been a couple of weeks, but she could tell. Anyone who loved him could. 

So, Riley was going to do whatever she could to help make this little arrangement work. Right now, that meant dragging Mr. Anti-social to dinner. So far, whenever one of the team was visiting, Murdoc had made himself scarce. She didn't blame him for that, but she knew it just didn't work as a long term solution. Heading for the left side yard, Riley opened the door to find herself face to face with MacGyver's neighbor from across the road, Mrs. Nora Lowell. 

Riley pasted on a smile, giving a "friendly" nod. The older woman's bright red smile was equally fake. 

"Miss Davis, how nice to see you again," Nora cooed. "Is Mr. MacGyver home?"

"No, he's at the store. We're getting ready to eat and Bozer needed some last-minute things," Riley lied. "Can I take a message?" 

"Oh," Nora said, dissatisfied, then sighed. "Well, I suppose that will have to do. I only wanted to ask him, if he and Mr. Bozer could please not mow the lawn so early in the morning. Their mower is terribly loud. I think Mr. MacGyver must have tinkered with it, because it was making the strangest thumping sounds." 

"Oh, that wasn't the mower," Murdoc replied, coming towards them from the yard. "That was me building a treehouse for my son. I rather thought nine-thirty would be late enough not to wake anyone." 

Riley gave him a pointed look and Murdoc cheerfully added, "I'm sorry." 

Nora just gazed at him, her hand coming up to play with her thick, auburn hair, that was only beginning to be streaked with gray. Even Riley had to admit Murdoc looked good, wearing nothing but a black tank top and tight, black denim shorts. Nora's eyes traveled rudely over the lean muscle of Murdoc's lanky body. His tousled black hair fell fetchingly over his eyes. Swallowing a laugh, Riley watched Nora's eyes linger at the equally black hair just showing above the neckline of Murdoc's shirt. Murdoc stared back at Nora with cold amusement.

"Oh, that's, um, that's quite all right. I...I wasn't sleeping. I just usually take my morning coffee around then, but I can do it later. Or earlier, Mister, um...I'm sorry we haven't met."

"My name is Murdoc." 

"I'm Nora," she practically purred, smiling brightly. "Nora Lowell." 

"Nora and her husband run a clothing boutique," Riley supplied, sweetly, earning a dirty look from her. 

"How fun," Murdoc said, dryly. 

"Are you a friend of Mr. MacGyver's?" Nora asked, stepping a bit closer.

"You could say that," Murdoc answered, laughing a bit, moving his right leg forward, to show off his ankle monitor. "He agreed to take custody of me, while I'm under house arrest." 

Nora paled, her eyes going wide.

"Oh. Um. How very kind of him. I...I need to get home. Have a nice day," she said, hurriedly, moving away. 

"Take care," Murdoc said, with bland indifference. Once Nora was gone, Murdoc turned to Riley. "Wow, so who's the cougar?" 

"Nora Lowell and that says it all about her. Well, that and she likes to complain. She doesn't like Mac or Bozer. She likes you, though!" 

"Not anymore, I hope. She can look if she wants. I just don't want to talk to her." 

"You and me both," Riley agreed. "So, we're eating in twenty. That gives you just enough time to stop looking like some dime-novel, wet dream and get to the patio." 

"Am I coming to dinner?" Murdoc challenged. 

"Yeah, you are," Riley answered, blithely. "For Mac's sake, we're all going to try getting along. You did some shitty stuff, Murdoc, but you're paying for it, being cooped up here..."

"With darling Nora for a next-door neighbor," Murdoc added, smirking.

"Yeah and that's not something I would normally wish on anyone," Riley agreed. "So, whatever. It is what it is." 

"So, this is the hand you've been dealt and you're just going to roll with it?" Murdoc asked, giving an astonished laugh.

"It's a sane person thing, Murdoc," Riley quipped. "Don't you hurt yourself trying to understand it." 

"Ooo. Ouch." 

"Yeah, right. Shower. We eat in twenty," she ordered, going back into the house, ignoring the chuckles that followed her.


	6. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and MacGyver both get anniversary presents.

**May 30th, 2020 2 P.M.**

Murdoc walked into the living room, wiping paint from his hands on a cloth, and froze. Three Phoenix soldiers stood in the living room, with Matty. MacGyver stood there, too, his expression calm.

"Well, hello. Have I done something to warrant a visit?"

"Yes," Matty said, amused. "You've actually managed to behave yourself for an entire year. Who knew you had it in you?"

"No one, I would think," Murdoc quipped, giving his creepiest grin. 

"Well, you've earned a reward, of sorts," Matty explained. "We're upgrading your tracking device. Show him." 

One of the soldiers opened a metal case. Inside, lay two ankle bracelets, made of metal. They were a shiny chrome, looking almost like jewelry, except for the small, electronic box that held them in a circle.

"Ooo. Two of them?" Murdoc asked, arching his eyebrows.

"One of them is for Mac," Matty explained. "You'll be allowed off the premises, so long as you remain within five feet of MacGyver. Of course, all trips outside the house will have to be cleared first. Also, his has a health monitor that will alert us immediately, if he is injured or killed." 

"Mmmhmmm," Murdoc hummed, knowingly. "And, what's the catch?" 

"You're playing guinea pig. These are experimental. You won't just be monitored and tracked, though, this should give us a clear view of where you are at all times. We can also administer discipline, at least in theory."

"Fatal discipline?"

"Well, it's not _supposed_ to be, no." 

"Oooo! Hence, the need for a guinea pig. It's not in my best interests to give you an opportunity to discipline me, Matty." 

"No, but all we really need is to make sure we can send signals and work on response times. You will occasionally feel a slight tingling sensation. It shouldn't be strong enough to be painful," Matty promised. "Let us know, if it is, and we can adjust it." 

"You're planning on letting more criminals loose in society?" 

"Well, except for you, we'll be starting with non-violent criminals. The ultimate goal is to reduce the prison population and aim for rehabilitation, whenever possible, over incarceration." 

"Of course. Look, honey!" Murdoc said gleefully to MacGyver. "They could almost pass as a substitute for wedding rings!" 

"If we're going to be married, I demand a ceremony," MacGyver retorted, grinning. 

"Oooo, you sound tempted!" 

"Later," Matty warned. "We need to get this done." 

Twenty minutes later, Matty and the soldiers were gone. Murdoc lounged on the couch, admiring his new accessory. It was certainly more attractive than the nylon band it had replaced. MacGyver sat down next to Murdoc, sprawling across him. 

"You know, when you first told me about this deal, I thought you were delusional." 

"You told me I was delusional," MacGyver reminded him, amused. 

Murdoc let go of his pants leg and wrapped his arms around his lover.

"And, I never was more glad to be wrong. I think your team is warming up to me." 

"Yeah, it's amazing how far you can get with people, by _not_ threatening to kill them," MacGyver chided lightly, placing a kiss directly between Murdoc's eyes. 

"Hmph. I think it just proves you and your team are as crazy as I am." 

"I'm okay with that," MacGyver decided, chuckling. 

"Come on," Murdoc said, standing abruptly and pulling MacGyver to him. "I want to show you something." 

Curious, MacGyver followed Murdoc into the room they had converted into an art studio for him. A painting sat drying on an easel, in the middle of the room. 

"It's almost done, enough for me to show it off." 

"Oh, wow," MacGyver said, softly, studying the picture. 

The same falcon from the picture in El Salvador was flying over a lush riverbank, but it hadn't been hunting. Instead, it was flying with two other birds: the smaller falcon and a phoenix. The phoenix was painted in full, mythological splendor, it's wings and tail tipped with fire. Its feathers were orange, red, and yellow, while its eyes were the phosphorescent shade of a blue flame. The falcon and the phoenix flew close together, tilting towards each other. There was a playfulness to the scene that made MacGyver smile.

"I never thought I'd paint something like that," Murdoc admitted, in the light tone MacGyver had discovered hid so much.

"Don't worry," MacGyver assured him, playfully. "The predatory bird theme is totally you."

Murdoc gave a huff of laughter, bending and nibbling at a ticklish spot on MacGyver's neck, making him squirm and pull away with a sharp laugh. 

"Come back here," Murdoc coaxed, pulling MacGyver back to him. "Happy anniversary, Boyscout." 

"Happy anniversary," MacGyver agreed, leaning in and kissing his lover warmly.


End file.
